


You go to my head

by Heath17_KO5



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, slight angst to happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23468929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heath17_KO5/pseuds/Heath17_KO5
Summary: Tobin's got a crush on her best friend. She doesn't know when it developed, but it's definitely there. Not that that means she's going to do anything about it.
Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Comments: 31
Kudos: 428





	You go to my head

**Author's Note:**

> FML, if this looks familiar and you're like "Wait I read this in someone else's AO3" that's because I'm a dumbass who accidentally posted it to the wrong account. Sometimes I hate myself. Anyway this is just a oneshot inspired by something on tumblr. Hope everyone is staying safe and healthy.  
Stay home. Read fic.

She doesn’t know exactly when it happened. It wasn’t a conscious thing. It wasn’t like she saw her and thought, “Yes, that’s the girl. She’s the one for me.” It wasn’t like she had tried to fall for her. 

They were friends. Just normal everyday friends. Friends and teammates.

Friends and teammates who play soccer together and hang out from time to time, especially if they happen to be in the same place at the same time. Kelley’s no different. 

It wasn’t like she had woken up one day thinking “this person is going to take over my life.” 

But that’s how it feels. 

When Tobin wakes up, there are green eyes and a dazzling smile in her mind. 

When something happens that she wants to share with people, there is always one name that pops up first. 

When she’s feeling down or stressed, there’s one person above everyone else that helps her feel better. 

When she’s bored, there’s one contact whose number she gets the urge to pull up on her phone. 

When she falls asleep at night, it’s with visions of long dark flowing curls, tanned skin, and faint freckles. 

Tobin doesn’t know exactly when it happened, but there’s really no denying it anymore: she’s fallen for her best friend. 

She’s fallen for Christen. 

  
  


She can’t do anything about it. Obviously. They’re teammates. They’re best friends. 

She’s not an idiot. She’d never actively do anything to jeopardize any of that. 

Besides there’s one constant in her life and that’s soccer. That’s her focus. That’s what’s most important to her. 

Girls will come and go, but soccer is hers for life. 

She doesn’t have a retirement plan in mind that doesn’t involve soccer in some capacity. 

So there’s soccer and family, then friendships, then maybe girls. 

And Christen is her friend. 

Friend first, crush second. 

It’s not a big deal. 

  
  


She dates Lucy for two weeks. Two weeks before she knows it won’t work. Two weeks before she acknowledges that her smile isn’t right, her eyes aren’t the right shade of green, her teeth are too perfectly straight, her nose is too small and pointy, her skin too pale. 

Two weeks of casual dates and halfhearted hookups before she tells her it’s been fun but it’s not something she can pursue. 

Two weeks, so there are no hard feelings and the splitting is easy, but Tobin feels a twinge of guilt anyway. 

“Tinder.”

“What?” 

“You gotta get Tinder,” Sonny declares. 

Tobin can’t help it: she makes a face. “Don’t want it.”

“Tobin you’ve been all kinds of tense lately. You need to get laid,” Sonny advises. 

“I need to have Bailey work on my back tomorrow.”

“No, that’s not gonna fix it. You need sex. Get Tinder.”

Sonny doesn’t let up and Tobin downloads the app just to appease her. 

She doesn’t set up a profile. She doesn’t want a random hook up. 

Sex isn’t the answer to all of her problems. Besides, she has a vibrator. 

Anyway, camp’s coming up soon. She needs to focus. 

  
  


** _[CP23 2:44 p.m.]_ ** _ Kelley says you two are going to give me a surf lesson this camp.  _

** _[Tobs 2:45 p.m.]_ ** _ Sweeeeet! About time. _

** _[CP23 2:46 p.m.]_ ** _ It’s not gonna happen.  _

** _[Tobs 2:47 p.m.]_ ** _ Come on! You love the water!  _

** _[CP23 2:47 p.m.]_ ** _ I love the beach. _

** _[Tobs 2:48 p.m.]_ ** _ We’re gonna make a surfer of you yet! _

** _[CP23 2:48 p.m.]_ ** _ That’s what Kelley keeps threatening.  _

** _[Tobs 2:49 p.m.]_ ** _ Embrace it babe.  _

Tobin stares at her phones. She stares at the message, lit up blue. She stares, horror growing in the pit of her stomach as the word “Delivered” appears under it. She stares, feeling vaguely nauseous as the words “Read 2:49 PM” replace it. She watches the bubble of dots dreading the response. 

It was a slip up. 

She wasn’t thinking. 

It doesn’t mean-

She didn’t mean-

** _[CP23 2:50 p.m.]_ ** _ Babe, huh? Trying to seduce me into surfing, Tobs? _

Tobin lets out a breath. She’s joking. She doesn’t think that Tobin means- 

Tobin DIDN’T mean-

** _[Tobs 2:51 p.m.]_ ** _ Whatever gets you in the water with us.  _

  
  


She doesn’t tell anyone about it. Nobody needs to know. 

She’s never going to act on it. 

It’s just a crush. 

It’s just a crush on her best friend. 

It’s just-

A distraction. 

  
  


“You are NEVER going to believe the issues we had with our flight!” 

Christen flops down beside her on the bed and Tobin feels her skin start to hum. It’s like every cell in her body is aware that Christen is this close, that her arm is touching Tobin’s, that her leg is less than an inch away. “What happened with your flight?”

“What didn’t happen? The first crew was late so they had us switch gates and they got a new crew and then we got on the airplane, waited for about an hour, before they made us get off because there was a mechanical issue so we needed to get a new plane. Get on the new plane, but then there’s a backup on the runway so we don’t get to take off for over half an hour. Finally, FINALLY, we take off and they run out of snacks halfway through the plane. Not kidding. Just ‘Sorry, we don’t have enough.’”

“Wow!”

Tobin’s had travel days like that, but never one quite so bad.

“Wait, didn’t tell you the best part!” Christen declares, scooting even closer, her hand bumping into Tobin as she waves them animatedly. 

“What’s that?” 

“They lost my luggage.”

“You’re shitting me,” Tobin replies. 

And Christen pushes up onto one elbow and turns towards her. “Right?”

The light from the window is hitting her eyes just right to make them practically glow and her lips are close and a little damp like she’s licked them recently and Tobin can’t help but look, can’t help the way there’s an ache in her chest begging her to reach out, to do something, to act on what she’s feeling. 

But she just grins and says, “Geeze, what a day!” 

Christen flops back down, closer, arm pressed to hers, head tilting towards hers, and Tobin doesn’t move, doesn’t react. 

It’s just a crush. 

She’ll get over it.

Christen is her best friend and that’s all she’ll ever be.

  
  


She always plays her best when she’s on the field with Christen. 

It’s not a new thing. It’s not something that’s happened since she developed more complicated feelings for her. It’s just their connection. 

When Tobin is on the field with Christen, she finds her without having to look for her. She’s always aware of where she is and she can get her the ball without any communication at all. It’s like Christen just knows where Tobin needs her to be. Like they’re just so in tune that they automatically are where the other needs, where the ball goes. 

And when she scores and Christen is the first to reach her on the field, to wrap her in a sweaty hug, it doesn’t mean-

It’s just what they do. 

She’s the first to Christen, too, when their roles are reversed. 

It’s their connection. 

It doesn’t matter that her chest tightens when Christen grins at her beaming. It doesn’t matter that there’s an ache in the pit of her stomach when Christen’s head rests against hers, her breath tickling her cheek. 

They’re best friends. It’s what they do. It’s what they’ve always done. 

(Even if these are the moments that Tobin replays at night until she drifts off to sleep.)

  
  


Leaving camp is hard. 

Always. 

They get this bubble. It’s just them. The team, the coaches, the game. It’s like nothing else matters. Nothing else exists. 

Going back to reality is hard. 

Leaving Christen is harder. 

“Why do you have to play all the way in Portland?” Christen grumbles, wrinkling up her nose adorably. 

Tobin resists the urge to kiss it. She ignores the way Christen’s question curls warm in her chest. “I think the better question is why do YOU play all the way in Salt Lake City?”

“It’s closer than Sweden,” Christen counters.

“Point,” Tobin concedes. The words, “I just wish you were around all the time,” die on the tip of her tongue. 

Christen lays her head on Tobin’s shoulder and Tobin ignores the warmth that spreads from the spot, the way the gesture makes her chest ache. 

“How long until we play each other next?”

“Only a few weeks,” Tobin replies, like she doesn’t know the exact number of days, like she hasn’t been counting them down in her head. 

“Good,” Christen murmurs, linking her arm through Tobin’s.

She’ll leave for the airport soon, with a hug and kiss on the cheek that burns on Tobin’s skin the whole way back to Portland. She’ll leave for the airport with a dazzling smile and a “See you soon, Tobs!”

She’ll leave for the airport as Tobin’s best friend and nothing more, but she’ll stay at the forefront of Tobin’s mind all day. 

  
  


Tobin picks up a can of spray paint. She’s not really thinking so much as feeling. Some days she just likes to see where the art takes her. 

She makes sure the bandana around her face is secure and she sprays out a soccer ball as a warm up. 

Then she lets her mind wonder as her hand sets to work, spraying a line here, changing colors, filling in there. 

At the end she focuses, she absorbs what she’s done. There’s a heart, pink and orange and bright. In the middle a multicolored question mark. 

She snaps a picture, just for her record, her heart pounding doubletime in her chest, and then she picks up the black spray paint and sprays over it, a blank black canvas to use another day. 

It doesn’t mean love. 

It doesn’t mean anything. 

  
  


It gets a little harder. Not hard, exactly. It creeps up on her. The way that her stomach tenses every time Christen texts. The way her chest feels tight every time they Facetime. The way she misses her every time they’re not together, like a physical ache in her body. 

It gets a little harder because it feels like even if she’s not talking to her or with her she’s thinking about her and that’s-

It’s a lot. 

But it doesn’t mean-

It just makes things a little more complicated. That’s all. 

She can handle it. 

She can!

And she doesn’t need to take EVERY single Facetime call. She doesn’t have to respond to EVERY text right away. She doesn’t have to text about EVERY thought she has. 

She can focus more on soccer. Stay later after practice, up her weight training, go for more runs. It’s not like it’s getting easier to stay in the best shape the older she gets. The extra work could be valuable. 

And Chris will understand it. She’ll get it. She knows the grind. She knows what soccer means to Tobin. Just like Tobin knows what soccer means to Christen. 

It’s not really a big deal. 

And then these feelings will go away.

Eventually. 

It’ll be fine. 

  
  


“Tobin, you do NOT have to go for a run right now.”

Tobin squirms. Technically it’s true. Technically she’s already gone for a long run today. 

She wants to go for a run, though. She wants to have her feet hit the ground in a solid thump, to feel the burn in her calves and her thighs, to focus on the exercise instead of the way that Christen’s eyes crinkle up in the corner when she smiles or the way her laugh sounds different in her apartment in Utah than it does when she visits in Portland. 

She wants to go for a run because Christen’s watchful gaze won’t follow her down Portland streets. Christen won’t be able to notice the way that her eyes dip down to her lips and linger for too long. Christen won’t be able to see the way she stares and stares and feels like she could keep staring at her forever. 

“It’s such a nice day, Chris! I don’t want to stay inside.”

“Then talk to me from the balcony,” Christen instructs. “Soak in the rays AND give me best friend time.”

And, God, her lips are just so pink and perfect. They look so inviting. What might they feel like pressed against her own lips instead of on her cheek. 

But, no. These are exactly the types of thoughts she shouldn’t be having. 

“Come on, you know the exercise is good for me,” Tobin whines. 

“So is social time, Tobin, and this is me wanting to be social with my best friend. We haven’t had a proper Facetime in weeks, Tobs.” 

It hasn’t been weeks. It’s been ten days. Christen won’t appreciate the semantics, though, and it might be a little too telling that she knows how many days exactly it’s been. So she keeps it to herself and she plasters on a smile and she heads to the balcony. 

“See? Sunshine,” Tobin says. 

“Is that my new nickname?” Christen teases. 

Tobin feels the flush on her cheeks, the sudden warmth that has nothing to do with the sun beaming down on her. She feels the tightness in her chest increase, feels self-conscious in a way she’s not used to. It’s only under Christen’s gaze recently that she feels like this, and at the moment that’s worse than anything else because she’s her best friend, she’s supposed to put her most at ease. 

And she’s just teasing. It’s not serious. But suddenly Tobin can only think about the way that Christen feels like sunshine in her life, the way that it is, in fact, an accurate nickname. Suddenly Tobin can just imagine calling her “Sunshine” in a flirty kind of way, as a pet name, and she’s never really thought of herself as the pet name type of person, but-

She shakes herself out of it and realizes, as she blushes deeper, that she hasn’t replied, and now the silence is lingering between them. 

“Tobs?” Christen prompts and there’s this look on her face, like she’s trying to work something out, and Tobin tries to think quickly, tries to come up with something to cover up her flub. 

“Over Portland, Chris,” she finally says. “Sunshine over Portland. You know it rains so much here that we have to take advantage while the sun shines.”

She’s officially having a conversation about the WEATHER with her best friend. She’s not sure she could be lamer. 

Christen is looking at her kind of funny, her smile a little off, and Tobin suddenly hates how well Christen knows her, how well she can read her, how there is no doubt that Christen knows that something is up all because Tobin is a complete idiot. 

“Oookaaay. Weirdo.” It’s said affectionately, but there’s an undertone to it, one that makes Tobin’s heart race in her chest, one that tells her that she’d better stick out this conversation on the balcony instead of ditching for a run or Christen might start to figure things out. 

_ Be normal. Be cool. It’s just a crush. She’s still your best friend. _

It’s a mantra that gets her through a lot, but right now it doesn’t feel like enough. 

  
  


The Thorns play in Utah. 

The Thorns play in Utah and Tobin plays like crap. 

The Thorns play in Utah and they lose to the Royals. 

The Thorns play in Utah, and Tobin feels her world starting to collapse. 

  
  


She’s normally happy to play in Utah, happy for the challenge, happy to see her friends on the Royals, happy to satisfy the travel bug that’s never really left her. She’s normally happy to have Christen smirking at her from nearby on the pitch. 

Today she’s not and the challenge feels like too much and Christen-

She can’t stop looking at her, looking for her, feeling her nearby, and it throws her off. It throws her off and she’s not focusing on the ball like she should be, her runs aren’t timed right, her passes aren’t connecting, and everything is going to shit. 

Normally Tobin loves it here, but today. 

Today nothing works, especially her brain. 

  
  


“Hey, we all have an off game.”

She’s trying to be sweet. She’s trying to be understanding. She’s trying to get Tobin out of her mood. 

All she’s doing is making Tobin more annoyed, more annoyed at herself, more annoyed at the game, more annoyed at the shots she missed, more annoyed at these stupid feelings and thoughts that won’t just leave her alone. 

And even here, even after a loss, Tobin’s arm feels warm under Christen’s hand, Tobin’s body feels responsive in a way it shouldn’t. 

They’re just friends. They’re just friends, and right now Tobin isn’t even being a very good friend. 

She should have just gone back to her hotel. She should have gone to sulk alone.

But Christen wanted to hang out. Christen wanted to help her feel better. 

Christen wanted and Tobin didn’t know how to say no so here she is. 

“It wasn’t just an off game.”

“It was. You know we don’t always get the win, no matter how much we want it.”

“It’s not just the loss, Chris!” Tobin can’t help the way she shakes off her touch, the way she pushes to her feet and stalks away. She should help it. Christen isn’t really at fault. Yes, she had scored and her team had won, but Sonny should’ve been there, should’ve stopped her. She should’ve provided back up for Sonny. AD should’ve stopped the shot. They’d all failed and Christen had been amazing. 

Christen is always amazing. 

And that’s the problem.

That’s the issue. 

That’s what she can’t tell her. 

“Tobin come on! Don’t be like this. I just want to spend some time with my best friend before she has to fly home to a different state.” And Christen is pouting out her lip and giving her puppy dog eyes looking all adorable, and saying, “Usually you have no problem shaking off a game when we’re together.” 

And Tobin can’t. She just can’t. She reacts when she shouldn’t. 

“Stop, Chris! I- You can’t just-”

And now Christen is frowning at her, eyebrows furrowed, eyes questioning. “Tobin-”

“No. Look, I’m sorry. I just- I should go. I should head back to the hotel. Early travel tomorrow. We should-”

But Christen’s hand is on her wrist before she can get more than two steps towards the door, and the look of concern on her face, of hurt-

It’s too much. 

“Christen, it’s not the game I can’t shake off.”

It’s way too much. It’s almost an admission. 

Christen is looking at her with wide questioning eyes that are that stunning pale green, and Tobin wants to just get lost in them. Except she doesn’t at the same time. She wants to be able to shake off all of the times that she’s imagined them looking at her with a different expression, all the times she’s tried to pinpoint the exact color in her mind, all the times she’s let thoughts of those eyes and the woman they belong to consume her recently. 

“What do you mean?” Christen asks. It’s almost tentative the way she asks, almost like she’s not sure she wants the answer. 

And Tobin knows-

She KNOWS she shouldn’t give it. She knows and still her mouth opens and the words, “It’s you I can’t shake off, Chris.”

But that’s not what she means. That’s harsh and hurtful and she can see Christen recoiling like she’s been slapped, can see the confusion, the pain written across her face, can see her already starting to wonder what she might have done wrong. 

But she hasn’t done ANYTHING wrong. That’s-

“I can’t get you out of my mind.”

The hurt fades but the confusion continues and Tobin-

Tobin’s started, so now she doesn’t really know how to stop. “Chris, I think about you ALL the time. I think about you first thing in the morning and last thing at night and I- God, Chris, you’re not JUST my best friend!”

And it’s out there now. It’s out there and Tobin can tell already from the look on Christen’s face that it is a mistake. 

Christen still looks confused and Tobin can practically see the wheels turning in her brain, can see her figuring out how to let her down easy.

And Tobin-

Tobin feels like she’s going to puke, but she’s not going to add to the now long list of embarrassing things that have happened today. She swallows down the nausea, ignores the cotton ball feeling in her mouth, and wipes her clammy hands on her shirt. 

“Tobin…”

Christen’s voice is cracking and Tobin knows. She knows what’s coming. She can’t hear it. She can feel their entire relationship crumbling around her, she knows that they won’t be able to recover to best friends after this. Maybe they’ll manage awkward teammates, but what they had, what was is gone. 

She shakes her head, forces a smile. She backs up so fast she trips over her own feet, but she catches herself, she doesn’t fall, she’s reaching for the door as she approaches, her fingers outstretched. She doesn’t want to spend another second in this place with Christen standing there looking at her like THAT. 

“No. Yeah. It’s fine. I get it. You don’t- I shouldn’t- I should never- I’ll text you when I’m back in Portland, k?”

And then she’s out of the door, down the stairs, moving away as fast as she possibly can, ignoring the way that Christen calls after her, ignoring the aching in her chest and the bile rising in the back of her throat and the fact that she’s pretty sure that she’s heading in the absolute wrong direction from the hotel. She heads away and she tells herself not to think and she absolutely doesn’t look back. 

  
  


She deletes the five texts she has from Christen without reading them. She doesn’t answer Kling or Lindsey about why her eyes are rimmed red, why she isn’t eating, why she’s so pale. She turns off her phone and she heads to bed and she wills her brain to shut off, wills the image of Christen’s face after she found out out of her mind. 

She doesn’t sleep quickly but she lays there and she figures that if she pretends to long enough eventually she will. 

  
  


Sonny plops down next to her on the airplane. 

Tobin puts her earbuds in. She’s not subtle about it. She doesn’t want to talk. She doesn’t want to pretend to laugh at stupid jokes the whole flight back. 

Sonny offers her a bright smile anyway and says something that Tobin can’t hear over her music. 

She points at the earbuds pretending to be apologetic when really she’s not remotely sorry. 

Sonny doesn’t take the hint. She pulls one of Tobin’s earbuds out and repeats herself, and it’s not at all what Tobin expects. 

“You told her, then.”

“What?” She pretends that she doesn’t know what she means. She pretends that she’s annoyed about the earbud rather than Sonny’s surprising skills of perception. 

“Chris. You told her you like her.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sonnet,” Tobin snarls even as her heart hammers away in her chest. She snatches her earbud back and puts it back in. 

And Sonny takes the hint this time. She sits back and she puts on one of her Spotify playlists and she leaves Tobin to the thoughts she’d rather not be having. 

  
  


Except apparently Sonny didn’t get the hint. 

They’ve been back all of an hour before there’s a knock on Tobin’s door, and it’s Sonny. She has a six pack in one hand and brownies in the other and a smile that is far too cheerful on her face. 

Tobin rolls her eyes but lets her in anyway. 

She takes a beer and cracks it open and takes several large gulps while Sonny settles onto her couch. 

“What do you want Sonny?” she asks with a sigh. 

“I’m here for you, buddy.”

“I wish you weren’t,” Tobin replies. 

Sonny snorts. “No you don’t. Nobody wants to be alone when they’re heartbroken.”

“Ah, well, I can see where you’re confused there, then, because I am not heartbroken.”

Sonny gives her a look. 

“Why do you even think I liked Chris anyway?”

Sonny shrugs. “Because you do.”

There’s something about the way she says it, the way there’s no uncertainty, no wavering, that makes Tobin give in. Or maybe Sonny’s right. Maybe she wants to be with someone, wants to talk to someone about this. 

She sinks back onto the couch and asks, “How’d you know?”

Sonny shrugs again. “I watch. When you crack the jokes you get to be in the middle of everyone and everyone watches you, but you get to watch everyone in return. So I watched and I saw.”

“And what’d you see?”

“I saw you falling for Christen.”

“I didn’t-” 

She’s so quick to contradict, so quick to deny. She stops herself mid-sentence, then sighs. “It wasn’t supposed to get this bad.”

“The heart wants what it wants, Tobs.”

It’s so frickin’ cheesy that she snorts, she can’t help it, and she gives Sonny a little shove. “Shut up.”

Sonny grins and she shrugs. “What? It does!”

“You’re an idiot,” Tobin laughs. 

“Yes, but I brought beer.”

“It’s the only reason I let you in the door,” Tobin replies. 

Sonny grabs her remote and turns on the TV, finds a game, makes herself at home, but Tobin doesn’t complain. The tension that has been in her shoulders since they boarded the plane to Salt Lake City is easing, just a little. She still hasn’t turned her phone on. She will eventually. She’ll text, like she said she would, and she won’t read the replies. 

For now though, she tries to talk Sonny, once again, into being an Arsenal fan. 

It’s not until she’s heading out later that night that Sonny holds her close and says, “I’m sorry it didn’t go well.”

And Tobin shrugs. She doesn’t think about how she’s not sure she gave it a chance to go at all. 

  
  


She doesn’t text. 

She talks herself out of it. 

There are four missed calls that she doesn’t return and another five texts that she doesn’t open, all from Christen. There’s another two texts and a missed call from Kelley. She ignores those too. 

Of course Christen would have told someone. She’d hoped it would be one of her sisters, someone outside of their soccer world, but she should have known. Kelley is there. Kelley has known both of them for a long time. Of course it’s Kelley. 

She leaves her phone on but she leaves it laying around as much as possible. 

  
  


In retrospect, maybe she should have at least read the texts. 

  
  


When she hears the aggressive, almost angry knocks at her door, she assumes it’s just Sonny being overeager. 

Sonny’s been around a lot in the past few days and Tobin’s finally worked out why she knew, why she’s the one who could tell. She’s ready to rub it in Sonny’s face that now SHE knows. She knows why Sonny knew all the signs of someone falling for their best friend. She really should have seen it sooner. Would have if she wasn’t so caught up in her own thoughts. 

She swings the door open mid-knock, ready to gloat, and words die on her tongue as she takes in the person at her door. 

Christen’s hair is down and wavy and her eyes are bright and focused and her mouth is pulled into a tight line. Her shoulders are tense and her posture is aggressive, and STILL she is the most stunning person that Tobin has ever laid eyes on. 

Before Tobin can even get a stunned “hi” out, Christen is pushing past her into her place and yelling. 

“I am SO mad at you, Tobin!”

And, okay, she probably deserves that, so she shuts the door behind Christen and prepares to take it, prepares to be yelled at more. 

“So fucking mad! And I don’t LIKE to be mad, Tobin! But you can’t just- You CAN’T just say things like - like THAT - and then fuck off like you didn’t! You can’t just drop information like that and disappear! It’s not fair, Tobin!”

Tobin can’t look at her, can’t take the anger in her eyes, can’t take the guilt gnawing at her sharp and tight in her gut. She watches the ground and she nods. 

“You put words in my mouth and you wouldn’t listen to anything I had to say and it’s not fair, Tobin! You- You-” Christen lets out a frustrated growl and then she’s closer, in Tobin’s space, forcing her gaze up, forcing her attention to focus on her face, forcing the eye contact. 

Her hand is gentle on her shoulder, gentler than it has any right to be. 

“You can’t just say things like that and take off, Tobin. You have to give me time to process. You have to- You have to answer. Or check your texts. Or not run away in the first place.”

Finally, finally Tobin finds her voice. It’s cracked and hoarse and laden with emotion, but she manages, “I’m sorry.” She means it with every ounce of her being, but it doesn’t feel like enough. 

“I don’t want you to be sorry! I want you to be here! To engage! To listen! To TALK to me, Tobs!” 

The nickname feels too familiar, too soft for Christen’s tone, but Tobin swallows hard and nods. 

“I’m sorry I blew up our friendship. I didn’t- I didn’t want that. I just-”

“Want me,” Christen finishes for her. 

And she’s so close. She’s right there. Tobin can see the patterns in her irises, can count her eyelashes, can trace the faint lines around her face. She’s so close and Tobin wants-

She wants HER. 

“Yes,” she agrees, voice barely above a whisper. It feels like she’s laying her soul out bare between them and it’s just one word. 

“And you never stopped to ask if I want you,” Christen says. 

“No. I’m sorry. I never meant to develop these...FEELINGS for you. I just- You’re my best friend. And you’ always were first, it just got hard to-”

“You’re still not listening, Tobs,” Christen cuts her off, and her voice is softer now. 

Tobin frowns because she is. She’s TRYING. She knows that Christen didn’t invite this, it just-

“Ask,” Christen prompts, poking her in the ribs. 

It’s then that Tobin notices the slight curl of a smile on her lips, and it throws her enough that she says, “Do you want me?” She regrets it the second the words are out of her mouth, but Christen’s just looking at her, meeting her gaze, staring right at her. 

She bites her lip and she looks and Tobin holds her breath, wonders if she really wants the answer, wonders if she can handle the “no”. 

“Tobin?”

“Yeah?” It comes out as a squeak. It’s not very dignified, but Tobin’s heart is hammering way too hard in her chest for her to be embarrassed about something like a squeak. 

“I flew to Portland for you.”

It takes her longer than it should. Maybe if she’d read the texts it wouldn’t have, but here she is, brows furrowed, mouth open in a silent, “Oh,” as her brain tries to process. And she thinks about how, maybe, this is what had happened with Christen, how she sprung information on her and didn’t give her time to process, to think it through, to figure out how she-

“You’re an idiot,” Christen says, and the affection is undeniable in her tone as she leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of Tobin’s lips. 

It’s still-

She hasn’t quite gotten there. Hasn’t quite accepted what it means, acknowledged the implication. 

But then Christen is looking at her with her eyebrows raised and her lips curled up in a smirk and she’s asking, “Are you going to make a move, Tobin?” and Tobin’s skin is burning where Christen’s lips just touched and-

OH!

Oh. 

“Okay.”

Her body acts before her brain catches up, and she slides her hands into Christen’s hair, feeling how soft her curls are. She hears Christen’s breath catch and then she feels her slow exhale because she’s kissing her. 

“Fuck!” she gasps against Christen’s lips as her brain catches up that she’s kissing Christen, her best friend, Christen Press, her crush, her-

And then she shuts off her brain in favor of just feeling. 

She feels the way that Christen’s lips are soft and warm and oh-so-inviting against hers. She feels the way Christen’s hands are tight on her arms and then they loosen and then her arms are sliding down her arms and falling to her hips and gripping there, thumbs digging into the hollows of her hipbones, pulling her closer. She feels the way that Christen’s breathing is uneven and hot against her cheek as their kiss deepens. She feels the way that Christen’s tongue is wet against her lips, tastes how it’s a little sweet against her tongue. She breathes in and she smells everything Christen, her shampoo, the cocoa butter she uses, every scent that’s simultaneously so familiar and yet feels new and exciting. 

And then-

Then Christen is pushing her back against the wall and kicking off her shoes. Then Tobin’s back hits with a small thud that she barely notices because Christen is pressing into her, is capturing her bottom lip between her teeth and tugging with a low chuckle that Tobin feels all the way down to her toes. 

Then Christen is whispering, “Yes, I want you,” into her ear before flicking her tongue against Tobin’s earlobe and then kissing her way along Tobin’s jaw back to her lips. 

Then Tobin is moaning as her fingers tighten on Christen’s head, holding her close, kissing her hard, licking into her mouth. 

Then no more air exists between them, no space, no hesitancy, no doubt.

They kiss and then they kiss some more and Tobin feels like she’s floating. 

  
  


Later they’re cuddled on the couch and Tobin’s fingers are tracing patterns on the bare skin of Christen’s arm and she takes a moment to marvel that she doesn’t have to worry about how Christen might interpret the gesture. 

  
  


Later they enjoy a glass of wine over dinner and don’t think about the fact that Christen can really only spare another day before she’s going to have to head away and then they will have to learn how to be apart while they’re still figuring out how to be together.

  
  


Later still they end up curled around each other, naked and spent and laughing into each other’s skin with a freedom that Tobin couldn’t have imagined with anyone else. 

  
  


She doesn’t know exactly how it happened. She’s not really sure when the world began to shift for Christen too. She’ll find out, she’s sure. 

They were friends. They’re still friends, really, but now there’s something more, something new. 

And it’s not uncomfortable like she worried it would be. 

Now when she wakes up she texts Christen first thing (except usually it’s a text back because Christen doesn’t like to sleep as late as her). 

Now when she goes to bed, more often than not it’s with Christen’s voice in her ear or Christen’s face smiling back at her from her phone on the pillow beside her. 

Now when she feels sad or mad or bored or excited or anything at all she doesn’t hesitate to call and hear the voice of the person that never fails to put a smile on her face. 

No, she hasn’t worked out exactly how she got so lucky, but knows she is, and she really doesn’t mind one bit that she’s fallen head over heels for Christen Press.


End file.
